


It's What Keeps Me Alive

by ishre_yann



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Clothed Sex, Grinding, M/M, Missing Moments, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-01 09:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15139910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishre_yann/pseuds/ishre_yann
Summary: Shiro's died, but he still doesn't know. He wakes up, and all he can see are skies above and below him, and someone speaking through sounds he can't quite comprehend. It's all the time it takes Shiro to realise with his death, and how much he's willing to sacrifice, and what Black and Keith aren't.





	1. "So why does this still hurt?"

**Author's Note:**

> Wheeeo!! I made it!  
> I've been working on this fic for a bit now but was stuck at one point.  
> If you guys want to read this, I'd suggest doing so while listening to the only reason I wrote this fic, [Ocean (Bloom) by Radiohead and Hans Zimmer](https://soundcloud.com/trevorjr26/ocean-bloom)
> 
> Fic is unedited, sorry about that! It will be as soon as I'm able to read it again without dying inside at my grammatical horrors (or if some kind native speaker offers to beta read it djksjdskjkdsdjks)
> 
> Without further ado, here's the thing! Hope you like it <3

He was floating, away and afar. His body was light but his mind was heavy, one dragging him down, the other one lifting him up. If Shiro had a name for it, he'd call it a limbo. It wasn't the first time he'd experienced this, something in the back of his mind told him. He'd already been there, he already knew how to wander this place.

Shiro was unmoving. The first time he opened his eyes, the night sky filled his vision. So many, too many stars shined above him. It almost felt like they would pull him far, far away. He almost let them. He was _so_ tired. He could just leave, float away and let the stars carry him, explore everything he'd been wanting to explore.

 _You can't go,_ a voice warned in the back of his mind. Shiro closed his eyes. His mind drifted away once more and he was swallowed back into the blackness. Heavy mind, heavy thoughts dragging him down.

The second time his eyes opened, the night sky found him again. Blues, whites, jet-blacks, and purples. They all existed in shades, transitions, northern lights. His eyes wandered. Slowly his mind picked up with his thoughts. He knew some of those stars, he knew all their names and stories. They spoke to him, told him stories of nostalgic eyes and angry red knuckles. Purple. Shiro was drawn to the living thing that moved the sky. He followed it, wild sparks and then nothing. He was left waiting, wanting, mind drifting. The stars did not belong in the same place he'd remembered, he distantly thought. Their places were wrong and _wrong._ It didn't bother him.

He wanted to go, to follow. He was free, he could leave and be free. He'd come back, one day. He would've, for them. _You can't go, what about the others?,_ his mind asked and Shiro was empty once more, dried of an answer that was just on the tip of his lips, only a second before. He didn't let it bother him.

He closed his eyes.

The sky was slowly becoming a familiar thing to wake up to. The stars welcomed him as if he was one of their own. Shiro felt one of their own, every now and then. He wanted to so bad that sometimes he almost decided to finally follow them. But his mind was still heavy, it pulled at the edges and hitched with complaints. One day it would be back. He just needed to let it rest. It just needed rest, and then he could leave.

Shiro closed his eyes.

It came to him slowly, bits by bits. It wasn't always clear. Sometimes Shiro faded away too early, sometimes he could manage to stay awake a bit more. He'd learned there were two skies, above and beneath him. It was alien, and yet he wasn't surprised. His body kept pulling, but his mind was lost. Which sky should he follow? Which one should he turn his back to? Which sky was the real one? Which one was calling to him?

Shiro closed his eyes, and this time he kept them close even if he wasn't drifting anymore.

The blackness came, but it didn't last any more than before. Shiro found himself awake more than asleep, he woke up and the sky was calling for him. He woke up and slowly realised; both skies were calling his name, louder and louder, higher and higher.

 _What do you want?,_ his mind asked. _What do you want from me?,_ it echoed. _I'm finally free,_ but was he? How long had he been there? How long, drifting, floating?

It came to him bits by bits, slowly. He woke up and he remembered some more. He woke up and Zarkon had a name, but still no face. He woke up and it had a face, but the name was lost to the northern lights. Until they both stayed, and they both met. Shifting and shedding like an old wolf. Shiro could almost reach out and brush against the thoughts, light and invisible, before they'd shy away from him once more.

A shock. Shiro was shaken awake, breathing like he needed it, gasping for air like there was some. He remembered, and yet he didn't completely. He thought he remembered, and yet something cumbersome hid away most of its parts.

The lion roared, and Shiro vibrated with the sound of it. Black and purple dancing together as he moved through space, weightless, retracing choices that were his, and yet foreign. He'd given it all, he'd sacrificed his freedom, he'd let it go. He was so ready, it didn't hurt at all. He did it. They all did it. He could let go. He could let them go.

 _You can't go, what about him?,_ his mind wailed. What about him? Shiro couldn't really tell. He'd come back. He'd always come back for him. Yet, Shiro felt like fading, and it both scared and calmed him. What about him? Shiro couldn't tell. All the questions crowded his head, piled up, until he wasn't. He wasn't and it left him peaceful. He wasn't and it left him empty. Too empty. Too lonely. How long had it been?

The lion was unmoving. Sometimes he'd hear voices, faint whispers with familiar voices. They were far, far away. Sometimes he'd realise only when they all had disappeared. Shiro had names for those voices. His eyes had faces. His hands had touches. On the tip of his tongue, he tried to push them, to let them fall off and out, but they clung like needles and slipped like shards of glass; under his skin, and the more he pushed, the more they sank and sank and sank. Until they slipped for good, and Shiro was empty once more.

Emptiness stretched his edges until it affected time itself. How long had it been?

Shiro shifted, but he couldn't move, and yet he did. He moved in one piece, and the skies moved with him, stars shifting, adjusting. Shiro breathed in, but his lungs were long gone, full of nothing. It was like the same energy that moved Shiro, the very first time he'd piloted Black. The moment he found a purpose to it, to himself, to something bigger.

Where was this place? He knew it, and it felt like home, yet no home ever looked like this one. Earth wasn't infinite. Earth wasn't mirrors and blackness. Earth swallowed the stars and the rocks, it fed and feasted on its carriers, it lacked and yet had so much.

Purple curled at his edges, it drew and defined his own being. Something, someone keeping him together. Purple. It was the colour- no, it was something else. Energy, warm and cradling energy. Something familiar, close, something Shiro could follow back to the deepest parts of his soul. It pulled at his insides, tied but not tearing. An ancient thing, far older than Shiro could ever imagine—it spoke in hums and low growls Shiro couldn't make out.

Time passed, and the light became his only friend. A shadow which didn't quite hide its own presence. Shiro was always happy to hear it, it made him less lonely, less invisible. The voice made sense, in a way. Its tones spoke of ancient times, but also new—it had a rhythm, something primal and powerful. Sometimes it roared, and Shiro resonated with it within, witnessed it tying him down once more and keeping him steady. Real.

Shiro didn't feel real most of the times. It was hard, to not drift away, and yet the light helped him. He remembered things better, could keep a coherent line of thoughts without losing everything else in the process. Shiro felt real. As real as he'd never been in such a vast space.

“Who are you?” he asked one day—night? He didn't know.

But there was no answer, so Shiro waited.

“Who are you?” he asked while the growls filled the stars, made them blink and shine brighter, waves shifting right before Shiro's eyes.

_You can't go, Takashi._

Shiro's whole body halted. He didn't move, not really, but he still tensed, still trembled in front of his own voice. He took a deep breath.

“Where am I? What is this?” his voice was so faint he didn't even recognise it. Was is really his? Why would it come off so... weak?

His mind drifted once more, dragged down in a spiral of questions he could not answer. Where was he going? Why couldn't he go? Why his voice, of all the others? Was he talking to himself? Where was he? Where was he being kept? Was he really being kept? Who was keeping him there?

 _Don't go, Takashi,_ his mind reminded him. _You can't go there,_ it repeated. It was stronger this time, but it wasn't really his own voice. It mixed, shifted between two tones—one of them painfully well known. _Don't go, Shiro,_ Keith pleaded, _I can't lead them like you._

“Keith.”

His whole world broke in tiny pieces. Suddenly, he could see. He could feel and think and-

Keith was sitting inside the Black Lion, hands clasping hard at the commands, purple energy shooting up and turning on all the systems. Shiro blinked, and it was the whole team in front of him—smaller, tinier versions of them, at least. His body was there, but it was different. It was alien, as the galra tech that Haggar had installed in him. It wasn't flesh. It wasn't anything he'd ever come across in his whole life.

“Keith.”

Black roared, proud and victorious. She was celebrating her new paladin—and Shiro with her. Her thoughts flew right through Shiro, overwhelmed him altogether, and that was it. Something clicked in the blink of an eye and Shiro's mind was a blank page. Zarkon's fight, how he retrieved the bayard only to use it for his first, and last time. His body slipping through the cracks Black had created. Black light engulfing him with all she could, before her systems shut down.

 _You can't go, Takashi._ It was louder, angrier almost. It spoke of rage, the kind only failure and pride could bring. She lost him to her own power, and could only keep his conscience—now trapped inside the astral plane.

“You...” Shiro was at loss. “You saved me?”

 _You shouldn't have had to go, Takashi._ It wasn't his time, it wasn't hers too. It wasn't Zarkon's to decide, to bring desperation above everything else, above his own safety, to have one sacrifice for the lives of endless more. She saved him, and yet Shiro was condemned to watching something he wasn't sure he could.

Time went faster, it flew with cognition and Shiro with it. He still drifted when Voltron wasn't needed, but was wide awake every time Keith stepped inside the pilot seat, grasped at Black—at Shiro's whole essence, he tried to hold Keith back, to let Keith know, _I am here—_ but Keith didn't hear, Keith didn't feel, Keith didn't pay attention.

There were times Shiro almost screamed, concern becoming dread and finally nausea. Keith flew like he was on a rampage, and Black let him—understood more than anything Keith's loss. She put her whole self in Keith's hands, let him make mistakes.

Those were Shiro's worst times.

 _This is it, this is where I bring him down with me,_ he whispered to himself, incapable of doing anything but watching, spectating as the paladins were brought on a whim by Lotor. It grasped and pulled right at Shiro's throat, stung and tore. He tried turning away, let the universe take him with him, drift as far away as he could—but Black kept him there. He tried screaming, _Keith. Keith I'm here. I promise, I never left. I never left,_ but Keith was deaf to anything that wasn't his pain. Keith hurt, and Black with him, and Shiro almost lost his mind between escaping all of it and using every inch of energy he had to reach out. It was never enough. It made him tired in a way he could pretend he was going back, floating away to the stars.

But Keith found a way. They all helped him find a way, and Shiro almost believed he could go—he could let them go on, and Black could let him rest.

“Please,” he whispered while the stars sang to him. “Please, no more.”

But the stars did not listen. They kept on singing, their tune changing to something painfully hopeful. Shiro closed his eyes, wet spots running down his skin—and he knew they weren't real, but Black made them so and he wasn't strong enough to stop at least this. He cried in silence, trying as hard as he could to not let the song influence him. He didn't need to be a burden—if Keith ever found out, but couldn't bring Shiro back, Shiro could've never forgiven himself. Hope was for another time, another day, somewhere Shiro still had a body—somewhere Shiro could still return to someone.

“He doesn't need this,” Shiro insisted, and yet his voice was weaker by the second. “I can't do this to him. _I_ can't do this.”

 _You shouldn't have had to go, Takashi,_ and Black was gone.

Shiro looked at the stars, and then closed his eyes. He couldn't reason with her, so it meant he'd have to find another way. If he couldn't go, he could still help save the universe.

* * *

Shiro had settled in a slow pace. He watched over Keith, whispered encouragements when Keith looked like giving up, and cheered when Keith succeeded. He was proud, and Black let him guide her—pull at his edges so Keith could find direction once more. Not that Keith needed it anymore. It helped Shiro, it gave him purpose, something to focus on rather than his death. He came to terms slowly when Black was resting in the hangar with the others.

He'd died and there was nothing he could do. He'd died and still had the privilege to walk with the livings, together with Voltron. Shiro screamed and cried for the whole time he was drifting, curled on himself, holding himself together with the illusion of touch. He wasn't feeling anything, he couldn't feel anything, and yet Black's light caressed him—kept him company or gave him solitude when he needed it. She apologised in her own way, to keep up his torture for something that would never happen.

Shiro found himself asking for the songs more and more often, the stories of the Paladins of Old, visions of the times Zarkon was good and untouched by the quintessence, how they were similar and how much they drifted apart in the years. All the bad choices, all the mistakes, the twists Zarkon's mind found. Shiro shivered at the thought of how close he was to become like him, in the arena, fighting for his own life and to entertaining his captors. He'd lost himself, and then he was found again—alone, but not really.

Keith saved him and saved him over a thousand times without even realising. Keith needed Shiro as much as Shiro needed Keith, but Shiro could never tell him—could never openly rely on Keith, not when he'd always be put on a pedestal. Away and afar from Keith, as if he could never be reached. Shiro'd noticed, yes, and now he regretted not telling Keith earlier—not making him feel openly his own equal.

He should've, and yet he didn't. One of Shiro's biggest regrets.

Shiro didn't know how much time had passed. He only knew Keith, and Keith's presence alone. The others were faint voices, images behind a blurred glass. Every now and then, Shiro could catch a glimpse of Allura, sometimes Pidge- and Lance. It was rare, scarce moments, but he smiled at them when he saw how they were doing. They'd learned how to move on with their grief much faster and better than Keith, and yet waited for him—helped him. Shiro settled this new truth deep, slowly but relentlessly; Keith had a family now, he wasn't alone anymore, Shiro wasn't his only rock.

It helped Shiro too, to know he wouldn't drag Keith down as he'd imagined. Keith could make it, Shiro was positive, he could make it and show them everything Shiro'd seen in him when they first met.

Or at least, that was what Shiro hoped for.

Black ignored it at first, the spark of purple light that caught and entangled its own strings with the Lion's energy. It was faint, weak, but it was there and unmistakably alive. Shiro feared for the worst. Zarkon was alive and was coming for them.

Black too wasn't eager towards the new forming bond. Three paladins were already more than she'd ever been able to manage. Her whole being split with duty and loyalty. She stayed faithful to Keith, as she'd been to Shiro, but she couldn't deny nor sever her past ties.

And now one of them was back, it shined like a smouldering fire, sometimes dying down, only to become stronger and stronger. Shiro didn't know what to do, couldn't make out a plan to tell the others. He'd tried, but everything it did was tiring him down, it brought him back to drifting—Black struggling to keep him with her.

So Shiro waited, hoped for the best, but couldn't ignore the knot in his guts when the energy kept coming closer, and closer, and closer. He prayed. He prayed Black didn't turn, that none of the others turned. And he cheered when they didn't, wormhole-jumped away from it. As much distance as Shiro hoped they could put between them and the loose end.

Shiro drifted once more, peaceful this time. He let himself float, eyes closed just enough so he'd still make out the stars. Black sang to him once more, cradling in her paws. It was almost maternal, and Shiro was more than drawn to it. She cared, she trusted, she'd been there with him the whole time, and Shiro was grateful.

“I owe you so much,” he finally made out. Words were shaped differently in his mind. The more he stayed there, the more the songs and the growls had more sense than his own language.

 _I owe you as well, Takashi,_ his own voice resonated within him. It was warm and accepting, always carrying that bitterness at its edges—guilt and grief. _I am finally free of him._

Shiro smiled, hands caressing the purple light with peace. He let himself sink deeper into the feeling, allowed himself to only be grateful—just for this time—and forget about the war raging outside of Black's consciousness.

He could almost feel the pull when it happened. Stronger than anything before. It was like something was dragging him in. Maybe that's what Black felt every time her paladin was in danger. Something she couldn't escape from—the same urgency Shiro felt when Keith was in danger, when one of the guys from the team was in danger.

It was only when Keith grabbed the commands that he was shaken awake, short breaths and palpitations. Dread rushed over him as Black's thrusters fired up, pulling her whole weight upwards and away from the Castle of Lions. Where were they going? Shiro forgot to ask, but he could see, he could make out how much of the unwanted string was now burning bright.

It pulled at the stars until they shifted the whole sky and centred on it.

Where were they going? Why was Keith going?

_Don't go don't go don't go._

“We found him,” it was all Keith said on the comms. It was hopeful as if they hadn't been running away from Zarkon. Shiro didn't know what to make of that.

But the wormhole was opened, and Keith was the first one to jump through it. Shiro's heart sank in his chest. Right in front of Black, there was a galra ship with only one passenger. It was... Shiro. It was him, but-

Confusion rushed through him. Why was there another him? He could only but watch as Keith jet-packing towards the galra ship, drag the Other Shiro out of it and back inside Black. Slowly, confusion became something else. It wasn't panic and yet it was paralysing, terrifying and _wrong_. Shiro didn't know what to do, what to say. Black had to do something. Black was his only tie with the material plane, and she couldn't even speak.

Shiro banged his fists against nothing—he saw it all through a screen, but the screen was his eyes and he couldn't tear them out, nor pierce through them. “Keith! I'm here!” he kept screaming and yelling and pushing. But Keith couldn't hear him, feel him, let alone speak to him. Keith, now incapable of hiding his happiness and relief—he was hugging Shiro like he was holding on for dear life. “That's not me, that's not me- KEITH!” Shiro cried once more as Keith helped his Other self out of the cockpit. “That's not me,” he whispered, voice hoarse and low.

Shiro was choking. He knew it was impossible—he had no lungs, no air around him. He wasn't alive, he didn't need oxygen. And yet here he was, throat closing in and body shaking. His head span together with the skies and the stars above. Dread fell heavy on his shoulders, dripping down on his insides. It grasped at his chest, pushed and pressed on until Shiro was on the ground, curling up in a ball of spasms. Guts twisting, he reached for his own head—kept it there between his hands.

Why did this happen? What was happening? Why did Black chase after the string?

Dread turned into anger, and anger turned into something blinding, something that lost Shiro to his last bit of calm. He roared at Black, purple light shifting through the skies like it could give Shiro space.

“Why did you go?!” he screamed, and yet he already knew the answer. There were things even Black couldn't fight. And this? This was one of them. Whatever that _thing_ was, it was part Shiro, and Shiro was tied to Black so tight even death couldn't pry him away from her.

He drifted away before he could keep going, tiredness and blackness reclaiming what was theirs. He remembered faintly thinking, _no, let me stay,_ before he was swallowed back in. A peace of mind he didn't want, did not care for. He was forced into before he could oppose himself, he'd never been strong enough to do anything but let it take him whenever it pleased.

 

* * *

It felt like forever, and not forever enough, when he came back. Black was still there, hovering on and through him, lingering with warmth and concern. _You almost slipped,_ her voice vibrated, curled in fear at the edges. Shiro apologised, eyes closed, he didn't need to speak to let her know. _This time, it is up to you, Takashi,_ she told him, and Shiro didn't know what to make of that.

When hands clasped the commands, though, Shiro understood.

The Other him was sitting in _his_ suit, waiting for something Black wasn't ready to give, just like Shiro wasn't. Shiro turned back to Black, only to find her patiently waiting. It was his decision to make, and Shiro was most sure. He'd never give Black up to an impostor. It was Keith's and Keith's alone.

“What's wrong?” the Other him asked.

“What are you?” Shiro asked, knowing the question would never find ears to be heard with.

He studied the Other him with caution—his features were just like Shiro's, his voice, his movements, his posture. It all looked like Shiro, and yet there was something off in his energy, something Shiro couldn't quite make out.

“Keith, I'm gonna need you to lead this mission,” the Other him said, and Shiro was almost grateful this _thing_ was just like him on the outside. “The Black Lion... isn't responding to me. It looks like you're its true paladin now.”

Shiro let go as soon as Keith entered the pilot seat, familiar hands holding the controls—Shiro had almost forgotten how comforting his touch was, how much he missed it. Black let him stay a bit longer, lulled by Keith skills into a perfect landing. Shiro closed his eyes, pretended they were still together in a quiet silence like they used to do before the weigh of the universe fell upon them.

It was comforting.

But then Keith became a faint presence. Shiro didn't know where he was, he only knew he piloted Black less and less as days passed by. Confusion became resignation, and then concern. What happened to Keith? Why did he stop piloting Black? Shiro could feel the other Lions far away, roaring while the fights raged—knew Keith wasn't there with them, just like Black knew.

Shiro waited, and then waited as the other Lions cried for help, valves squeaking under the pressure of each hit. Yet, there was no sign of Keith. Shiro waited, as it was everything he could ever do until his own hands clasped at the controls.

The Other him was back, and Shiro shied away from him, determined to not let him have Black, to not trust him. It was then that the Other him spoke—he was like Shiro, wanted like Shiro, behaved like Shiro. Black was the first to open a channel, listen to what the Other him had to say, and so did Shiro. He took his time to probe the Other him thoughts, his reasons and drives—and was startled at how much the two of them were similar, if not the same.

How could this be? Was his body never destroyed? Did he ever die? Did his mind split when Black tried to keep him from drifting away? What did that meant for him, the Shiro trapped inside Black's consciousness? Was he real?

The Other him spoke, and guilt lingered between the stars. It was true, everything the Other said, Shiro knew it resonated deep within Black and Shiro himself. The others were in danger, and there was nothing more important than to help them right now. Shiro had been selfish, but he didn't want to be one more time. Black waited for him, patience over hurry, and when Shiro let go of whatever had been poisoning him, she roared in response.

Her paladin was once more.

* * *

Shiro followed the Other him with critical eye. There still was no sign of Keith but his faint bond with the Red Lion, now piloted by Lance. Their energies clashed like waves against the rocks in a storm, and yet they made it work. Shiro didn't know still what to make of the Other him, but he still wanted what was best for the others, for the team. He'd been acting strange only once, the only time he'd argued with Keith in front of Black—Shiro let cold rage and indignation run under his skin when the Other him snapped at Keith.

Yet, all he could do was nothing. They would never hear him, and he would only waste energies.

It was only later when the first strings divided and pulled way back that the new idea nagged at Shiro's insides. Away and undisturbed, Haggar spectated through the Other him eyes. Unseen, undetected.

Shiro tried, he tried _so_ hard to sever their bond, only to find himself unable. It was outside Black's reach, and neither could she do anything. A wolf in sheep's clothing walked the hallways of the Castle of Lions, but no one noticed.

“I have to tell them. They need to know,” Shiro told Black. “I can't keep doing nothing. There must be something, a way-”

 _You will slip away, Takashi,_ Black had many voices, Shiro'd found out. She sounded like him, but not quite, sometimes it was ethereal, sometimes it was the exact same tone he'd heard when the lions roared. It was sharp and wild, raw power that never cut or harmed. _You cannot go._

They argued. Black was firm and unmoving, but Shiro was determined too. He'd already come to terms with his death, he'd already accepted to sacrifice himself for a greater cause. As much as Black wanted him to stay, to save him, he couldn't just stay put and hope for the best.

They argued for days, Shiro trying to connect with the other Lions every time he could, wearing himself out more than Black wanted. She always kept him there, kept him from drifting away and never come back. But Shiro never stopped, and Black knew better than to pull too much—as much as she feared it, he had to go where she didn't want him to.

_There is away._

Black lulled Shiro awake with that only sentence, but then she was gone and Shiro was back at trying to connect with the Lions. It wasn't until the fight on Olkarion that she reached out for Shiro once more.

_They will come. They will have to reach deeper if they want to succeed, but it will be for a short time, Takashi._

Shiro followed the stars until he could make out Black's eyes. Bright purple, they spoke in shades, with stars in them. She was made of all the firmament, lights Shiro had never seen before. They were all there, shifting and shimmering.

“Tell me what to do,” Shiro said.

Black kept quiet for a second, her attention split between the fight and Shiro.

 _Open your mouth wide, Takashi,_ she said eventually, and Shiro did.

 _Breathe._ And Shiro did. He filled his lungs, even though there was nothing, he still breathed and breathed through it all—until he could feel it. A small breeze, it rushed through the skies and reached for him as well.

 _Feel it, Takashi._ What was it? Black roared low and warm, inciting. _Feel the universal sigh, let it take you._ And Shiro let it. He closed his eyes and breathed in and in, until his lungs filled with something he couldn't quite comprehend. It felt like water, but it didn't choke him. It settled and shifted inside him, giving him cause, giving him edges and shapes.

 _Do you feel it?_ Shiro nodded absent-mindedly. He was floating once again, but this time it was water all around him.

 _While the oceans bloom and the skies grow, feel it run through them all._ Shiro let the current wash over him until he was dragged down and down and down. _It's what keeps us alive, Takashi._

Shiro believed it, allowed it drown him until he could feel nothing of himself, but all around him.

It was dark, and he was weightless, and voices were calling his name.

“Shiro!”

 _Who are you,_ he wanted to ask, but couldn't.

“Shiro!”

Something was wrong, but Shiro didn't know what.

“ _Shiro!”_

Shiro opened his eyes, only to see everyone else teleport away. Towering lights that brought them up high where Shiro couldn't follow. Only Lance was left there, eyes closed.

“Lance,” he called—his voice was heavy, calm but Shiro didn't feel anything.

Lance opened his eyes and turned. “Shiro?”

“Lance, listen to me-”

But Lance was gone, and so was Shiro, fatigue catching up with him.

Blackness came once more to claim its bounty, thicker and heavier than before, it clung at him like claws and daggers, dragged him away, drowned him in. Black was only a faint memory, something distant that tried to chase after him, but eventually couldn't.

Shiro closed his eyes and exhaled.

* * *

_Don't go, Takashi._

Shiro opened his eyes. The skies were above and beneath him once more, his body was weightless just like his mind. Where was he? The stars sang to him once more, of how long had passed, how distant he'd became—how hard Black pulled and pulled to keep him there.

He was saved again.

Slowly, he became aware of it all. The Other him, Lance, Keith.

Keith.

Keith was piloting Black once more. He was back and he was desperate—he was bigger and _bigger,_ Shiro didn't know what to make of it.

“I know you're scared Shiro,” Keith said, “but we're gonna get through this.”

Shiro almost smiled, if he'd only remember what irony felt like. Keith always knew what to say to calm Shiro down, even when he didn't need it.

Shiro could only make out a weak _thank you_ when realisation struck him. Keith wasn't talking to him. He was talking to someone else.

The Other him was right in front of them, piloting an old altean pod now landing on a deserted planet. Shiro couldn’t let himself be happy, because as soon as Keith landed, he was gone—running away from Shiro, chasing after the Other him.

Panic came crashing, Shiro was in a frenzy. Black’d listened to their exchange, he could see what happened through her eyes—this wasn’t supposed to happen. Keith wasn’t supposed to walk towards his own end. Shiro couldn’t let it happen, he could _not_ let this happen.

Yet, Black was unmoving. She needed more than simple willpower from a ghost, a remnant of what he was. Shiro wasn’t strong enough. It pained him to be stuck there, unable to do nothing but wait. Wait the situation out. Wait for Keith to _need_ help so Black could bring it.

It was the longest and extenuating wait Shiro’d ever had.

The skies started pulling way before Black could move. Shiro saw how many times it almost reached the exasperation point, but Black didn’t move. She let Keith and the Other him battle, hoping for God knew what.

“We have to go!” Shiro incited. “You have to help him, Black, please!”

But Black didn’t move, until Keith’s life was on the edge. Shiro choked on nothing but the uncanny feeling that moved Black—that was what moved the Lions, dread and near death experiences. Shiro hated it and thanked it at the same time.

Black dug on the surface, tore down everything she had to until she could fit and crawl her way inside the structure. The whole station was coming down on them, but Black flew in without hesitation, jaws open—ready to catch both Keith and the Other him unconscious bodies. It was a second, and Black was able to connect them on the astral plane, Shiro pushing through with all the strength he had left—which was not a lot.

He had to see Keith one last time. Talk to him, tell him what was going on.

Shiro found himself once again between two skies, but he wasn’t still able to have shapes and edges. He was invisible, but Keith wasn’t—bright as a star, he stood far away from Shiro.

“Keith,” Shiro called and it echoed everywhere. His voice was calm once more, with no rush or pain. He was empty, and yet he was so much fuller than he’d ever been before. Keith startles, black bayard already in hand and drawing out its sword. “Keith.”

“Where are you, Shiro?” Keith stuttered. “Show yourself!”

Shiro still tried to take a shape, to be _something_ at least. It was hard, speaking and concentrating. He’d waited a bit, and he sighed. “I know this must be confusing for you,” he opted to fill the silence.

Keith’s breath was laboured, short and shaky breaths. “What is this place? Where are you?” Keith turned, but there was nothing to look at—but Shiro was there, he could look at Keith, could see his pained expression as confusion took control of him. “You- you were trying to _kill_ me! The others...! You- you said you-”

Shiro pushed once more, harder, until he was able to stand right in front of Keith, steps far ahead. Weariness caught up with Shiro faster than he’d hoped—he didn’t have much time. “I’m not here to harm you. Everyone is fine, just let me explain,” Shiro promised, hands reaching high—posture relaxed. He tried to assume the least hostile posture possible, and it worked—Keith stopped to actually listen, so Shiro spoke once more. “The thing that attacked you, wasn’t me,” Shiro heard calm and quiet wash over him—and yet he had a storm inside. So many things he wanted to say. So, so many. “Since my fight with Zarkon, I’ve been here.”

Keith finally realised. “When you disappeared?”

Shiro nodded. “Yes,” he took a deep breath in. This was it, his goodbye. _Please don’t follow me._ “I didn’t know where I was, or how much time had passed. My physical form was gone. I existed on another realm.” Shiro hesitated, time stretched at a different rate for him. _It’s fine, he’s strong, he’ll be fine._ “I died, Keith.”

Shiro let the notion sink in, and it didn’t take long before Keith’s eyes widened—shock and disbelief followed by pain and denial.

Shiro couldn’t take it. Not like this. “But the Black Lion somehow retained my essence,” he added and cursed inside for allowing Keith some hope. This wasn’t something reversible. He wasn’t coming back, he couldn’t have Keith thinking otherwise. _Just let go of him._

“Is- is this where we are? In the Black Lion’s consciousness?” Keith asked, and Shiro nodded.

“I tried to warn the others about the imposter while on Olkarion,” Shiro's body drifted away. He was slipping through the cracks once more, his time had come to a limit. And he had so much more to say. _Please, please, a bit more,_ “but our connection wasn’t strong enough—” but the blackness was there, and Shiro was still mid-sentence.

He tried calling Keith once more, to let him know. _I love you._ He’s loved Keith in more ways that he could ever imagine. _I’m proud of you._ He’d been since the first time they met, and he was sure he’d keep being proud if he’d been able to stay with Keith until the end. _You’re amazing, you’re doing amazing, you’re gonna be fine._ He wanted to do so much, but it was never enough. He needed so much more, and was given already enough.

Something heavy settled inside him. He did what he had to do, let Keith know, help him for one, last time. Black granted him this last wish, and he was grateful for it. He couldn’t complain, he’d received so much more he could ever hope for.

 _Thank you,_ he remembered thinking, before blacking out and sinking in. If this was it, he would’ve gone peacefully. No regrets. That’s all Shiro’d ever asked for.

* * *

Something wasn’t right. Shiro had... he had something he’d been missing for he didn’t know how long. Air caressed his skin, light breeze, and something warm and red pinched his eyelids. He was leaning on his right arm, but something else was missing. Voices were cheering somewhere distant from him, he remembered faint glimpses—his fight with Keith, how Keith had looked after nothing but a few months, how much Shiro’s insides twisted at his sight, and then... _I know you’re in there Shiro_ — _love you._

It hit him.

Shiro opened his eyes, his vision coming slowly to focus on Keith’s profile.

“You found me,” he said weakly. His whole body heavy and unmoving. He wasn’t going anywhere without Keith’s help.

Keith was there, warm as the sun, holding him while the dawn on a new day made his skin tingle. Maybe it was—the Lions grouped right around them like Shiro was still part of the team.

Keith’s smile was softer than any other Shiro’d seen in ages. Open and sincere. He smiled like he could chase all the clouds from Shiro’s mind away—and he did, a bit. “We’re glad you’re back, Shiro,” Keith said and it was like the first time Shiro had heard Keith. He missed so much.

Allura came into the frame, but she was just a small detail at the edges of it. “Rest,” she said, and Shiro breathed in, trusting the solid arms beneath him. They kept him there, he’d kept him from slipping away and drifting away.

He closed his eyes, let out a sigh and rested—like he'd never left Keith's side. Ever.


	2. "I'm moving out of orbit"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I can't be bothered to write a whole smut part so I'll just divide it in two.  
> More smut to come as promised - sorry I got tangled up sob.
> 
> As always, I'm bad at beta-reading my own stuff & English is not my first language

They’d been flying for hours by now, and Keith was starting to feel the kick of all the tiredness and stress coming down on his shoulders. Almost everyone had tuned out and gone radio silence until further notice, only Allura and Coran were still up and running, together with Lance. They were still chatting but Keith had stopped listening after a bit—he’d tuned out too, without really closing his channels.

Shiro was sleeping in the back of Black’s cockpit, together with Thase curled around him. Keith kept a steady eye on him every now and then—they’d made it, but they weren’t out of it just yet. Hunk shared all the rations he’d grabbed so they could travel without issues for at least a few days, and Keith was making sure Shiro was warm and hydrated, proper meals could wait until he was able to do more than space out every twenty minutes and wake up after a whole four hours of sleep.

“My turn for radio silence guys,” Keith told the others. “See you when I wake up.”

Krolia was the first one to reply from Yellow’s cockpit. Hunk was sleeping and he was the only one with enough space to carry another person in his cockpit. “Good night, Keith,” her tone was as austere as always, but Keith recognised the warmness and affection she’d more than showed during their two years journey.

Keith was glad, crossing the space anomaly... it’d settled a weigh inside of him he didn’t know he’d had up until then. He knew something was wrong with him, that his mother leaving him was a wound he’d never be able to heal. Yet, her story, her reasons, Keith understood and welcomed.

Keith was peaceful.

Just as Shiro was when he sat down next to him, hand reaching out to stroke Shiro’s cheek with a softness only theirs. It was pointless, to hide anything he’d been so meticulously hiding from Shiro since the day he’d found him again.

The day he’d found out Shiro was dead, miles and miles away, something broke inside of Keith, and it’d never mend back together up until Shiro came back crashing down on Earth.

Now, it felt like Keith was the same kid all over again, only more grown and scarred.

Shiro stirred under Keith’s fingers, knuckles grazing the scarred skin with no intention of waking Shiro up.

Unless Shiro did pry one eye open and smiled at Keith, and Keith’s heart shrunk so much he almost couldn’t take it. “Hey,” Shiro mumbled.

“Hey,” Keith replied, unable to do anything but smile back—soft and careful. “Water?”

Shiro shook his head, leaned into Keith’s touch like that was enough, and Keith obliged. A deeper stroke and Shiro sighed right in Keith’s hand, closed his eyes like that was all he needed. Keith didn’t hold back, he played with Shiro’s line of hair, small touches and careful strokes, until Shiro shifted once more and down on Keith’s lap, head resting on one of his thighs.

Keith’s heart skipped a beat. Then another one. Until his lungs too felt too tight to contain whatever filled him.

Keith caressed Shiro until he was back sleeping once more until he could lean against Thase and Shiro’s stuff. He closed his eyes and let Black’s low hum and Shiro’s breathing help him drift away in a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Thase was the first one to wake up, and wake Keith up in the process. As soon as he moved, Keith was wide away—senses alert and focused, checking for whatever danger he’d had to face. _Protect Shiro_ was all that his mind could do before Keith realised and remembered where they were, where they were going.

Keith forced his tensed body to relax once more, followed Thase until the wolf hopped onto the pilot seat and curled in it.

“Keith?”

Keith turned only to find Shiro awake, definitely present and focused on him from his thighs. Keith fights back the realisation of _that_ sight, but it’s obvious by how Shiro’s eyes darted down and back up that his face was more than lighted up.

“Slept well?” Keith asked, bypassing completely whatever his mind brought up. Hell swallow him if he’d acknowledge it before they’d reach Earth.

Shiro nodded and the back of his head shifted against the fabric of Keith’s bodysuit. Both their armours were clumped up together in the furthest corner of the cockpit, where they wouldn’t have been a problem. Shiro could stretch as much as he wanted, and Keith’d made sure of it.

“I have to say, you’re a comfortable pillow,” Shiro joked, smile catching up with his eyes.

Keith swallows. “Like you hadn’t better pillows,” he huffed.

Shiro laughed, it was husky and hoarse because of the long period of silence, and the whole brought-back-to-life thing. The more Keith thought about it, the more this felt like a fever dream.

“None of which smell like home,” Shiro said, and Keith swore their eyes met and Keith’s heart was _this_ close to getting out of his chest.

_I love you,_ he distantly thought, and it must’ve shown because Shiro’s eyes changed too—a different light, a different cut—and Keith couldn’t breathe properly anymore.

“Keith,” Shiro called, and Keith held his breath, only to break a bit more when bitterness and guilt filled Shiro’s black eyes. “I’m sorry for what I’ve- he’s done.”

Keith swallowed hard, laid a hand back on Shiro’s face, cupped it and held it steady. “Don’t.” And he hoped his voice didn’t crack, because—this? All of this? Keith’d never had any easiest decision, anything he’d ever been sure of like this. “It wasn’t you, or- him. It wasn’t your fault.”

Shiro closed his eyes and breathed through it all, hand reaching out for Keith’s, holding it on his cheek. “I know,” he choked. “I just- it’s just- it’s like I never escaped them,” he let out with a shaky breath, “like I’ve always been trapped, and now I understand why.”

Keith didn’t need Shiro to explain how that felt. Even though he could’ve never known it, he didn’t need words to understand how worn out and hopeless Shiro must’ve been. Keith held Shiro’s hand back with a tight and steady grip. “I’ve got you back, Shiro. It’s gonna be okay now,” he said, “if it’s the last thing I do.” His voice cracked at its edges, anger and determination blending together as the words slipped out of his mouth. “I’m never gonna let them do anything like this to you. Never again.”

Shiro held his breath for a what felt like infinity, and then let it all out. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Keith hushed him, went back to stroking his hair this time. “I’ve got you, Shiro. I’ll always do,” he le out.

Shiro’s eyes were red with tears when he opened them once more, focused them back on Keith’s like they were stars to trace the way with. “I,” his voice died as Shiro had to breathe through another gulp. “Did you really mean it?” Shiro asked eventually, and Keith was sure his heart would stop. “Do you still?”

Keith’s face drained of any colour as he adjusted himself, helped Shiro sitting up and in front of him. This was it. This was the moment he’d always feared and hoped for. “Yeah,” he breathed out—and it felt like spilling his guts out a second time.

And Shiro- _God,_ Shiro broke right in front of him, head leaning forward and hanging between him and Keith, shoulders trembling and then giving in and just-

“Thank God.” Shiro’s voice broke at the end of it, gasping for air, and Keith knew he could never take it back. Not even if he wanted. Not even if Shiro didn’t feel the same way.

This was the man he loved, the man that did for him more than anything he’d ever expected and hoped for.

“Shiro?” Keith dared, inched a bit closer, leaned in.

Shiro inhaled slowly, took it all in and then let out something broken and yet whole, his voice cracking but growing. “I love you too, Keith. God knows I’ve always had.”

Keith choked.

Shiro held him once more and pulled him in, tired and worn out—a broken thing Keith couldn’t hold together, but still tried, jagged at his edges and now safe in his arms. Shiro fitted like a glove against him, lips parted and eager eyes Keith didn’t really want to escape from.

When Keith kissed him, it tasted like sweat and burnt flesh and just Shiro. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t perfect. Shiro was still weak, and Keith was still tired, but they both took their time to explore, to find the right angle the tips of their noses could fit together, the right distance, the right pace.

Keith found himself exerting more and more pressure against Shiro, helping him out and back down on his improvised haversack. Until Shiro was laying down and Keith was holding himself against the wall and the ground so he wouldn’t weigh on Shiro.

Keith found himself growing needy by the second, lips parting and tongue licking at Shiro’s until they parted too, let him in with a soft sigh and Keith’s whispered name. Keith wasn’t sure how to deal with that, how to deal with the wave of tension and heat Shiro’s voice sent through his abdomen, down his groin.

Keith licked inside Shiro’s mouth, against Shiro’s tongue, tasted Shiro together with the small meals he’d gotten him to eat throughout their journey. It was perfect in its own flawed way, all the wet sounds and broken moans Shiro choked against Keith’s mouth. How Shiro was eager and open and hot against Keith’s tongue. Keith wasn’t sure this was happening. The more it kept going, the more the back of his mind kept telling him, _it’s a fever dream._

“Keith-” Shiro pleaded once more, and fuck if Keith wouldn’t have done anything to that sound. It was needy and raw sound, a bit broken, a bit impatient.

Keith had to force himself to slow down, winning a small complaint, Shiro following before he understood that Keith had to say something. “You need to rest,” Keith said, hands still cupping Shiro’s cheeks.

Shiro had his hand on Keith’s back, holding tight onto him like Keith could float away any time. “I’m not tired,” Shiro complained. “Please Keith,” he let out once more. The same broken sound and Keith’s dick twitched inside his bodysuit.

This time, it was Shiro who pulled Keith this time, sweetly dragged him between his legs until Keith could lay on top of him—and exhale hard when his pelvis met Shiro’s, only to find out he was half hard as well. Keith let out a groan when Shiro rocked against him in one, steady push before tiredness caught up with him.

“Fuck Shiro,” Keith breathed against Shiro’s lips, mouth open shaping small sounds.

Keith rolled his hips once, and then once more until Shiro was panting before him, laying kisses on Keith’s jaw and nagging at it. Keith let out a low growl, allowed himself to weigh completely on Shiro’s muscular body, feel the bulk of muscles he still remembered since... always, really.

Shiro hot with need, hand grasping at Keith’s hip only to help him drive back against him. Keith clawed at Shiro’s sides, pushed harder and harder until he found a pace—fast, so fast he’d run out of breath. He’d slow down, but never stop, every second became both torture and pleasure, only because of the bodysuits. Friction wasn’t enough, and yet it also was.

Keith was so on edge he didn’t think he’d last more than a few minutes, and Shiro was probably even closer than him.

“Keith-” Shiro’s voice broke as he sucked a sharp breath in and bit his lips, swallowed a moan and then exhaled, high-pitched and shaky. “Keith, I’m close,” he managed eventually, head leaning backwards and showing all of Shiro’s neck.

Keith’s body was one step ahead of Keith’s mind as he bit down on the tender skin of Shiro’s neck, hard enough to hear—and _feel—_ him yelp and let out a higher moan, before coming with a shiver.

Keith followed after a few more pushes, came undone and collapsed onto Shiro, too tired to ride the orgasm out.

Out of breath, they kissed once more, slowly and softly. Shiro fell asleep right while Keith kissed his temples and stroked his hair back with gentle touches, and Keith did nothing but admire Shiro for anything but all the next hour—until Black commands blinked purple to announce an incoming transmission.

“Voltron, this is the Blade of Marmora. We picked up your signal and are en route, dropping out of hyperspeed in five, four, three, two-”

Keith didn’t recognise to whoever the voice belonged to until the commands blinked once more and Yellow’s screen popped up—only this time it was Krolia instead of Hunk. “What took you so long, Tajal?” she asked.

Just as Krolia said it, a drone ship popped out of hyperspeed just in front of them. It was bigger than the galran ones, had more guns, and something that Keith recognised as a tractor beam.

The laugh that followed was low, too similar to a growl to be human. “Had to convince Kolivan to borrow _our_ Castle of Lions.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO, that was short sorry.  
> I hope you folks still enjoyed it!!
> 
> As always, I'm on [Tumblr](http://hikku.tumblr.com) if you wanna freak out with me <3

**Author's Note:**

> BOI THAT WAS LONG. I've never written so much and so easily. Dead!Shiro is just amazing??? Plus, I love anything with weird and ethereal vibes, so I _had_ to write something on Shiro stuck in the Lion's consciousness.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!!
> 
> As always, I'm on [Tumblr](http://hikku.tumblr.com). Please do feel free to come to hang out / freak out with me. I'm open 24/7 (1-800-ARE-YOU-FREAKING-OUT????)


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